Saturday, December 28, 2013

Jams Of The Week (Todd The God Edition):

~sarah p.

p.s. If my dad ever knew I used the term 'Todd The God' on anyone other than Rundgren, I would probably be axed from the family, so let's just keep this one between you and me.


Christmas Eve morning, and then again last night, I was on one of Reggie and my famous World's Slowest Walks (TM Reggie 2013). Standing on the corner on the usually crowded street, watching the stop lights turn from red to yellow to green and back again without a single car passing by, in a strangely quiet moment in my own head, I was able to put some things into perspective. Most people would think I was crazy to say this, but 2013 has probably been the best year of my life. I learned and changed and grew the fuck up. I've had some hard lessons on how to protect my best interests, and own heart (without protecting it too much, right?). I have so much to be thankful for, and owe the greatest of gratitude to all of the wonderful people in my life that helped me through some tough times. I have truly obtained the knowledge on how to take responsibility for my own happiness, and, as the ball drops on Tuesday night, I just know that 2014 is going to be perfect. Much love to all of you out there. Happy New Year.

~sarah p. 

p.s. My mom always says to have a bath on New Year's Day to wash the previous year down the drain, but I'm just going to do it because I spend a fortune on fancy bath products, and kind-of like seeing myself naked.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Downtown People.

 I grew up pretty inner-city, and have always had places that just barely touched the downtown core in Calgary, save for a single, torturous four-month-long stint in the suburbs (which, BTW, fucking sucked, you guys). This, however, is the first time I am living in the very middle of downtown. People used to mistake my places as 'downtown', but I'm learning a lot about how much different a residential neighbourhood and a metropolitan neighbourhood can be.

Sometimes, the streets down here get so busy, and other times, you feel like you are the only one wandering the weathered cement. There is always a cab less than half a block from my house, just sitting and waiting. My building is basically a commune. My next-door neighbours leave our doors open during the day, and Reggie and Tina wander in and out of their apartments. We barter things for wine. I am BFFs with the 2-and-a-half year old upstairs.

My favorite part about being down here is the people. The population around my place is 30% hipster, 40% New Canadian, 20% rich folks, and 10% hippie. I'm not sure where I fit into these demographics yet, but I am positive I belong among them. It seems like there might be a lot of crime and drugs around my apartment (as judging by the needle bin directly in front of my place), but I feel like everyone takes care of each other down here. I have yet to feel unsafe.

As an avid people-watcher, there are the finest specimens in town around my place. There's a guy I like to call 'Pizza Everyday', who, like clockwork, gets a pizza from the shop two doors down from my house at 6:30PM each evening. He's not a big dude, where does he put it all? There's this homeless guy that lives in front of a heat vent. Everyone seems cool with this, and I applaud him for his innovation. There's this bizarre earthy lady named Heather that dog-sits for the "nancy boys" (her words) a few doors down. We walk dogs together sometimes, and I listen to her babble about things that I don't really care that much about, like holistic medicine and yoga. There's a building with a 24-hour-a-day doorman half a block down the street. A lot of people with fancy cars and fur coats live there. The only dry cleaner within walking distance will get your clothes clean, but they will also perpetually reek of Pine Sol, and the owner won't let you leave for at least half an hour when you pick your shit up because she is, very obviously, lonely. There's the two kids that smoke joints in their Tercel about the same time every night, and are perpetually listening to Ready To Die. Sometimes I rap a verse or two when I walk by. We might become friends, I haven't decided yet. There's even weird people that I have never, ever seen, but I know exist, like the person that drops a cigarette with a small piece of paper towel wrapped around the filter in the same spot every day. I'm assuming it's a smell thing, but who knows? These downtown people are crafty.

Since I have lived down here, my new downtown friends all share the same sentiment. They tell me that I'm lucky to work outside of downtown, because it's so easy to hole away in this tiny corner of the city. I know this little five-block radius is not the be all and end all of Calgary, but I'm really in the honeymoon phase with this neighbourhood right now, and I can go for drinks within a block of my house in all directions, and stop for groceries, at either Safeway or one of the thousand sketchy corner stores, on the way home.
All I know is that I felt perfectly at home the day I moved down here, and I feel fortunate to have finally found, what is seemingly, my spot in the world.

~sarah p.

Jams of The Week (Worst Hats In All Of New Jack Swing Edition):

 ~sarah p.

Sunday, December 08, 2013

Jams Of The Week (Tig Ol' Bitties Edition):

~sarah p.

The Zone.

I'm sitting so far outside of my comfort zone right now, in a place where everything has changed quickly and severely. I gave up being cautious and elusive and worrisome and petty. I gave it all up and here I am, brimming with happiness. I have learned so much in the past couple of months about synchronicity and reciprocity and probably a lot of other words that end in -city.
Have I gotten it wrong the last 32 years? I guess none of us can predict the future. We're all humans and we all make mistakes and take wrong turns, and that's what makes us who we are.
All I know is I can breathe for the first time in years, and can't wipe this stupid smile off of my face.

~sarah p.

Monday, December 02, 2013

Jams Of The Week (Videos With A Story Edition):

~sarah p.

p.s. I couldn't help but do two of these posts today!

Jams Of The Week (Part-Time Lover Edition):

  ~sarah p.

p.s. New weekly feature? I think yes! xoxo


A couple of years ago, I was making some idle chit-chat while getting my annual pap smear. My doctor is this adorable younger nerdy Asian guy, and he seems to get really flustered during the procedure, so I always try to distract him with some non-cervical discussion.
"How much salmon, would you say, is safe to eat on a regular basis?",  I asked. He was busy poking around underneath a paper blanket, and asked me how much I consume in a week. "I don't know", I replied, "Maybe three or six servings". He looked up from between my legs with furious concern.

When I left the office that day, he handed me a requisition for blood work. When the results came back into the office, he called me back in to discuss my mercury levels, which he called "borderline high". He told me to cool it on the fish for a while, and asked me to watch for signs of poisoning, which included hair falling out, rashes, and skin peeling away from the body. This scared me for about four days, until I discovered the joys of sushi delivery.

I guess I just had never entertained the thought that somebody would be willing to drive raw fish to my house, but my love affair with salmon only grew. Sometimes, the silky, fresh feeling of salmon sashimi sliding down my throat is the last thing I think about at night, and the first thing I think about in the morning. However, no matter how erotically I was thinking about slices of soft, pink flesh, my doctor's words kept ringing in my ears, and I tried to be careful. I really did.

I came into some money after selling my house, and last night I was mildly hungover and mentally and physically exhausted in the most wonderful way, and called one of my favorite sushi joints to drop me off a platter of their finest mercury-laced aquatic creatures. I have been known to be rather indulgent when ordering, and last night was no exception, particularly with the extra weight in my bank account.
Extra sashimi? Why not?
$30 on appetizers? Fuck it. All Tataki everything.

I am not a person with a lot of vices, but of all of harmful things I ingest from time to time, salmon has got to be pretty far down on the list. I could be addicted to onion rings or shopping or meth, but no. Fish. I still crave it every single day. I tried taking omega-3 supplements, I tried just eating other things, and there's just no comparison.
This year, at my annual pap smear, my doctor asked me about my salmon consumption. I impishly lied and told him I had quit entirely, and secretly checked my palms for peeling skin.

~sarah p.

Monday, November 25, 2013

Matchy Matchy.

When I was considering a decorating motif for my new bedroom, I, of course, looked directly to my dear friend Tina for inspiration.

~sarah p.

p.s. Guys! Somehow I survived this!

p.p.s. I found this photo of Tina at the cat shelter, prior to her adoption, feeding her little kittens... I diiiie.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

10 Things About My Upcoming Move.

1. For the first time in my life, I hired movers. Let's hope they're the seasoned, efficient type (the type with non-ironic mustaches), and not the swarthy, lazy, careless kind. Odds are not great that they will be the former.

2. When I take a bath now, I get feeling all relaxed, and then I open my eyes and look up and *bam*, toilet. In my new bathroom, there is no clear view of anything gross from the bathtub, which means all of those pricey bath products I buy might be finally be worth it.

3. I am painting my new place dark teal, bright peach, and steel grey, because I can.

4. I have been making a really conscience effort to downsize, so I have been sorting through boxes and chucking stuff, and there is nothing in this world that will make you feel more like a slob. In an old storage container, I found half a pack of Big League Chew in a flavor that hasn't existed since 1996, and now I'm super disappointed in myself. 

5. Here are some more things I won't miss about my old house: worrying that it will burn down due to sketchy wiring, worrying about the roof blowing off, worrying about the storm windows breaking in a hail storm, worrying about our yearly issues with roots in the waste-water pipes, worrying, worrying, worrying.

6. I got a new bed, because my current one is lumpy, won't fit in my new bedroom, and has a long and disgusting history.

7. My realtor bought me an awesome congratulations cake to my work that was the size of a football field, and made me super popular for the day.

8. My (divorced) parents are getting along now?

9. As a moving present, I got a new set of fancy pots and pans which will probably, hopefully, make me a better cook. Also, my new place has a bigger kitchen than any place I have lived in my entire life!

10. This time, next week, all of my belongings will be in my new place, and I can finally fucking chill for a minute.

~sarah p. 

Friday, November 08, 2013

Great Things!

I was never a person that believed in luck or Karma, but after a good month-and-a-half of breakup hell, it's  tough to ignore the world's wheels in motion. Here a fabulous list of wonderful things that have happened since this all went down:

1. I sold a house in two days. Probably mostly thanks to my amazing home-staging skills (throw pillows and vacuuming, guys).

2. I bought a great condo within three weeks. A fine little dwelling in the middle of downtown, where I can snuggle Reggie and Tina, and then do lunch and coffee and wander around as slow as I want, all I want, all day, every day.

3. I had to go sign papers at the lawyer's office with my ex, and he looked like he was in the middle of the biggest bender of his life. The minute he left, the lawyer started commenting on how much I looked like the chick from CBS's Nashville. I hadn't showered, I currently have the cough from hell, and was in my dingy work clothes. The compliment was probably not true at all, but RIGHT?

4. Gear Up was yesterday! Gear Up is a big event for anyone in my industry. Annually, all the youth-serving agencies in Calgary band together for one day and help set up our kids for the cold winter months. The day went off without a fight, a visible drug-deal, or a single arrest. Plus, I got the most full-body hugs in a single day than I have ever, ever gotten, and had my hair twirled by a three-year-old.

5. I came into work this morning to the most exciting present from my fabulous co-workers- four pairs of shoes (pictured above). Vintage fur boots for stylish walks with Reggie, red slip-ons for lazy days, and two limited-edition Vans mids (Kiss and Robert Crumb) that I'm pretty sure are going to change my entire life.

6. If I lose another ten pounds on the "divorce diet", I may actually start to look like the chick from Nashville. Actually, fuck it. So long as Hawkins Cheezies are still in production, that is never, ever going to happen.

7. Financially, I am making out better than expected in the sale of our house. I am taking a vacation, bitches.

8. Dam Funk and Snoop Dogg are releasing an album.

9. I finally ordered the exact right fucking amount of Japanese takeout.

10. I have been rather cocky these past few weeks. This wouldn't normally be a good thing, but I'm normally the most under-confident human being on the entire planet, and this is the one damn time I'm ever going to peacock around this city. I'm proud of myself, and proud of my choices, and fortunate to have changed my life path in such a seamless way, in such a short period of time. Most importantly, without making a total dick out of myself. I'm thankful to have escaped a shitty situation, and excited for the next chapter. Thanks to all for your love and support.

~sarah p. 

p.s. Guys! Mutual agreement: no more break-up posts! Sorry!

Sunday, November 03, 2013

Crush On You.

I was a fiercely loyal partner to my ex. I was not the type of person to have a wandering eye. In the almost-decade that we were together, I didn't even allow myself to have a celebrity crush. I was kind-of a crazy person in that regard.
That being said, up until eight years ago, I was boy.fucking.crazy.

It all started when I was six years old, with a show that ended ABC's TGIF lineup in the late 80's, Just The Ten of Us. Friday nights were a bit of a free-for-all at my house when I was a kid. My mom usually worked evenings, and dad would have had a few start-of-the-weekend beers, so we got to stay up late and drink Slurpees while dad snoozed on the couch behind us. 10:30PM each Friday, I would wait anxiously to see how much screen-time 'JR' was going to get this week. JR was the only boy in the family on the show. He was cute and non-threatening, and I thought he was quite a piece of ass. JR was my official first crush ever. At that point, I didn't understand that JR was just a TV character, and I dreamed of running away to California with him for the next two years.

I've mentioned before on this blog that my room was plastered with posters from teen magazines (which are essentially clothes-on porn for pre-teens). When I was younger, my all-time favorite was New Edition, followed by Kris Kross, JTT, and the fat boy and the short boy from The Mighty Ducks movies. Into my teen years, it was Jodeci, and a young, hippie-haired Jospeh Gordon Levitt. I also had a crush on just about any and every boy in my school that was quirky, awkward, well-dressed, shy, or sensitive (bonus points for any combo of the five). As I entered the adult world, nothing really changed, with exception of sex thrown into the mix. I could write a novel on my early-20's exploits, but I won't, because gross.

It came to me in a dream last night. I don't remember the dream specifically, but I awoke to realize that I get to have crushes again. I get to feel the push-and-pull of pursuing someone. The heart-stopping thrill of running into them, accidentally on purpose. Even the uncertainty of it all, the rejection and unrequitedness, has it's own kind of beauty. Fresh out of a long-term relationship, I am not sure I'm ready to date just yet, but I'm ready to start from scratch and learn how to have a crush on someone again, and it's going to be awesome.

~sarah p. 


Monday, October 28, 2013

Hello, Again!

A few months ago, a co-worker left me a note on her last day. Among the tear-inducing fond memories, and various niceties, was a paragraph on how much she appreciated my openness to others. I had never considered myself an open person before, but after thinking, I realized that my complete lack of mysteriousness, along with my "honesty is the best policy" philosophy, would lead others to say that I was a pretty genuine human being.
I haven't been trying to hide from everyone, but in the middle of my one-month-to-homeless panic, I believe I may have disappeared off the face of the earth for a short period of time. Fortunately, years of hanging out with street kids has taught me a very important lesson: the ability to think on my feet. I do unusually well under negative pressure, which is not a very useful skill outside of situations like these.
In one month, I have sold my house, bought a super downtown condo for Reggie, Tina, and I, and am band-aiding and re-building my heart. I found out today that my ex has already moved in with someone else. Somehow, I am fine. Might be the bonus two Klonopin I found in an old handbag last night. I knew they would come in handy, even if they may be (probably are) expired.
I intend on leaving this situation on top, and every step of the way, I am given more reasons to ensure that this happens. I will be stronger, soon. See you jerks on the flip side. I love you guys.

~sarah p. 

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Nat Geo's 'Border Security'- Some Thoughts.

1. You can pretty much yell and scream and swear as much as you like to the border guards, and nobody will do anything, but if you try to bring in a raw chicken, best of luck to you, brother.

2. They WILL pull you aside if you are any of the following: a hippie, a hipster, traveling with the purpose of snowboarding, or wearing a winter jacket will no shirt on underneath.

3. A dude carried a pipe and a small sack of weed off the plane from Jamaica. He was coming from weed heaven, and landing in second weed heaven. Why does anyone ever feel the need to smuggle weed INTO Canada?

4. Australians apparently love cocaine. If they swab your credit card, and you are from the land down under, it will be positive by default.

5. If you are heading to Canada to work, you should get your papers straight before you come. Or don't. I don't care.

~sarah p.

Friday, October 11, 2013


Somebody needs to invent a term for those times that you remember a song that you used to love that you haven't heard in years. Old i-pod syndrome? Deja-music? Musical remembory? There.

~sarah p.

p.s. How could I ever, ever forget about that time when Guru, my not-so-recent obsession, sampled my current obsession, Wings?

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Ride With Me.

I was placing an absolute ton of blame on some random ad exec for approving the most recent Honey Nut Cheerios ad, but then I realized that, hey, Nelly is 50% to blame here, too.

~sarah p.

p.s. Can you imagine Nelly sitting down and eating semi-healthy cereal for breakfast every morning? It's just a really disenchanting thought. At least pour some cough syrup on it or something.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Posies and Affection.

After seven long, seemingly-happy years in a long-term relationship, I have been dumped.
(pause for relentless sobbing)
Not to fear, dear friends, because according to Netflix, where I spend most of my miserable hours nowadays, an adorable, quirky shop keep with a heart of gold is around the corner, waiting for his moment to shower me in posies and affection in five, four, three, two...

~sarah p. 

p.s. Not to make light of this- I assure you I am awash in consistent waves of sorrow.  My self-doubt is at an all-time high, my heart is in the gutter, and I'm really not sure how I'm going to pull through. xoxox
p.p.s. Have you guys been on American Netflix? So many movies! Ahhhhhh!

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Consciously Unconscious.

I didn't always realize I was an insomniac. My parents used to tell people that I "wasn't a good sleeper", but I always thought it was pretty normal to stay up all night. I didn't understand why other teens didn't know all of the names of the family members on 'My Three Sons', or could repeat all of the words of the Danny Bonaduce infomercial. I didn't get why everyone would always say that sunsets were so beautiful- I saw one almost every single morning as I finished the last pages of a novel.

As I rounded out my high school career, things got as bad as they have ever been. It had been days since I had slept, and I could see the walls breathing. Everything was shaded the wrong color, and my brain was basically giving up. Doctors marveled at my ability to stay awake. As it turns out, the human body requires a fair amount of rest, and I was anything but rested.

After a very small stay in hospital, my sleep stabilized for a few years, but since getting back from Mexico in March of last year, my patterns have spiraled wildly out of control. I kept my mouth shut, and struggled for a while, but when I finally came clean, my family doctor wrote me out a prescription for magical blue pills. "These", he said, "are a temporary solution".

After months of waiting, I was connected with a doctor who specializes in sleep disorders. He cut back my medication, which I was honestly popping with reckless abandon, and put me onto a regulated sleep deprivation program. He assured me that he was able to cure the majority of all sleep disorders this way. He told me I would see results in a week.

 Four weeks later, I was back in his office. He nodded sympathetically as I explained that I had extended the program four times longer than I was supposed to, and jotted down some notes that he kept guarded from my eyes. I had not had any success with his program. My body was already used to the cycle of insomnia, and if anything, I thrived with the extra time in the mornings and evenings.

"Sleep testing", he said, "is the only answer". I met with the sleep therapist, who informed me that if I was unable to sleep, I would have to repeat the testing until I had a somewhat successful evening of slumber. No pressure. In a calming tone, she told me that most people have no trouble sleeping attached to a machine. I appreciated her stab at reverse psychology, but nice try, dude- I was sitting inside a sleep clinic, where people who are adaptable sleepers would never, ever go.

Last night, I strapped myself with enough wires to make a suicide bomber jealous. There were tubes around my chest, in my nose, and down my arms. I placed and re-placed the wires, terrified I would have to do the test for another night if anything was out of place. I was supposed to take a half dose of medication, but instead, I doubled up. I propped myself up with pillows and put on the most dry, dull movie about birds. This morning, I dropped the machine off and waited nervously for the sleep therapist to tell me my test was successful. She came out and gave me a thumbs-up, and that's all I got. I will have to see the doctor in a month to go over the results.

Sometimes I wonder what it's like to dream every night, and wake up feeling refreshed. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to take gentle naps and not have to tranquilize myself every fucking night like an angry elephant. Mostly, though, I just wonder what it's like to be consciously unconscious, on purpose, without a fight, beside my loved ones, because I bet it's really, really nice.

~sarah p.

Sunday, September 08, 2013

10 Greatest Summer 2013 Meals.

1. Los Chilitos Mystery Tacos.
I usually go up to this stall in Crossroads market, and ask them for three random tacos. Sometimes they give me beef, or chicken, or pork, or chorizo, and sometimes I'm not even sure. They have a million wonderful salsas, and cold Jaritos (pineapple or guava, depending on my mood). 

2. Milk Tiger's Champagne Cocktail. 
I like going to Milk Tiger, because it makes me feel classy, but a few of these booze-mixed-with-booze cocktails, I am anything but. 

3. Hana Sushi's Calamari. 
On Friday night, Tina ran outside in the rain, and hid in Reggie's dog house. It took me two-and-a-half long, cold, wet hours to get her back in the house. I ordered sushi delivery, and these crunchy, salty pillows of heaven were my reward for a night's hard work.

4. Great Taste's Bead Curd Sheets. 
Whenever we go to this restaurant, they ignore the shit out of us, but they make all kinds of dumplings and meatballs wrapped in thin, rubbery sheets of bead curd. The first time I had the sheets, I wasn't so sure of the texture, but I found myself at home craving dim sum that we have to fight for.

5. Bag of Mixed Candies From Oklahoma.
Hand delivered by Sara D. 'Nuff said.

6. Alaturka's Lamb Kebab.
I often visit this Crossroads Market gem for breakfast, problem being, there's no way in hell I can top this meal for the rest of the day.

7. Okanagan Peaches. 
These were smuggled from farm to bus to plane to table, and, despite a fairly substantial allergy to stone fruit, I polished off half a case.

8. Mallow Cups in +30C weather.
If you keep a candy bucket, like myself, then you will know that it can become a total meltdown disaster in hot weather. That is, except for the mighty Mallow Cup, which pools in the most spectacular, sticky way.

9. Deville's Brom Lake Duck Pastrami Eggs Benedict.
We usually go here because it's the only place without a line, but this Benedict can't be missed (by anyone who has no concept of how calories might totally destroy your body).

10. Salmon Cooked on Fire In Backyard.
Nenshi told us to curb our electricity consumption during the floods, so I piled up the wet, brightly painted wood in our back yard and cooked a salmon fillet wrapped in home-grown celeriac leaves. I may have poisoned myself, or killed a whole bunch of brain cells with the surely-lead-based paint chips burning to cook my fish, but it was worth it.

~sarah p.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

A Brief List of Things That Totally Terrify Me:

1. Wasps.
2. I stink and nobody has ever told me.
3. The death of others.
4. Getting a new cell phone.
5. House fires.
6. Waking up with a full head of grey hair.
7. Lipstick on my teeth.
8. Getting stuck in an elevator with somebody I hate.
9. Haircuts.
10. Driving.
11. Losing either of my pets.
12. Other people's nail clippings/hair.
13. Natural gas leaks.
14. Missing an episode of Girls, or The Mindy Project.
15. Dropping my jewelry down the sink.
16. A cougar might be stalking me when I walk home in the dark.
17. I'm wrong about religion, and there actually is a god, and he/she's pissed.
18. I might be wearing the wrong shade of foundation.
19. Dentists.
20. A slug will crawl in my mouth when I'm asleep.

~sarah p. 

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Snoop Lion.

I was supposed to watch fireworks on Friday night, I got sidetracked, as I so often do. By the time I got home, it was too late, so I decided to hack into American Netflix and see what I could find. I was scrolling through and scrolling through, when the choice became very, very clear.

'Reincarnated' was released at least six months ago, but I really hadn't gotten around to downloading it yet. The documentary follows Snoop on his journey to releasing a reggae album, along with his cousin, a bunch of Rasta dudes, and Diplo, but is essentially 90 straight minutes of watching Snoop Dogg get so stoned he can barely speak.

It all starts with a flight into Jamaica, where Snoop feels he belongs right now. He holes up with Diplo, and about 30 pounds of high-grade cannabis, in a studio in the mountains. He records songs about life, ashtrays, smoking weed, and fruit juice (not joking) over strong dub beats. We learn deeply personal things about Snoop, like why he doesn't like guns anymore, or how his mother was a real hard-ass that refused to visit him in jail (which anyone who had ever seen the video for 'Gin and Juice' could already tell you). Also, did you know these dudes never share joints? Never!

He connects with reggae legends, like Bunny Wailer and Damian Marley, and gets so toasted with them that we, as the audience, are entirely unable to follow their conversations, and this is where the hilarity begins. As Bunny Wailer looks at Snoop through crimson crescent-moon-shaped eyes, Snoop babbles and babbles and can't keep his gaze on the camera (or anywhere, for that matter). They are each smoking out of their very own mini-bongs. Snoop's cousin is passed out in the corner. He has been smoking joints this entire time, and seems to have fallen down some sort of THC-hole. The camera men are probably so contact-high at this point that it's hard to hold the camera. Snoop decides to convert to the Rastafarian religion, which would probably seem like a good idea to just about anyone that was this intoxicated.

The next day, he goes to a mountain where he can see where his weed is grown, and he goes on some sort of Rasta nature hike. His cousin gets so stoned on the hike that he can't stand up, a mountain girl brings Snoop some flowers, and Snoop uses his extreme lankiness to grab grapefruits off of a tree for everyone to enjoy. 

Snoop then visits a rough area of Kingston. When you are traveling, you can always tell if you are in a bad area of a city by how many crazy people approach you, and we watch as Snoop almost gets his ass kicked by someone who is clearly not very mentally stable. After this, Snoop has his Beatles moment, where he crawls up onto a rooftop and blows kisses into the crowd in between puffs of a joint.

After another eight blunts, he visits a boys school with a very exclusive music program. The boys play him a classic reggae tune while the director of the school freestyles a song over top. Snoop joins in, and dances joyfully in front of the room with the white nun that greeted him at the school's gate. This is easily my favorite scene in the movie, and maybe any movie ever.

Then, his daughter and wife visit, to record a song, and they all go to a Rasta commune in the middle of the night. Snoop gets blessed by the Rastas, in a large tent, by smoking from the biggest pipe I've ever seen, and getting petted on his head. This is an important moment for Snoop, and he says he feels 'loved'. At this point in the movie, I had laughed so hard at Snoop's antics that I was crying, but shit was about to get serious... Something actually happens for the first time in the entire movie. Something that would probably be referred to by Vice as 'documentary gold'. We learn that Nate Dogg has passed away, and everyone is really upset. What to do, what to do? Oh, right. More weed.

The final scene pans out onto an excited crowd. This is Snoop's first performance as 'Snoop Lion'. I knew a girl that attended this show, and she said they passed out free weed to everyone in the crowd. Snoop feels good, the audience feels good, and after an hour and a half of watching Snoop stumble through his Jamaican pilgrimage, the viewer feels pretty good, too. I don't recommend many movies, but this one is highly hilarious, highly likeable, and highly worth the watch.

~sarah p.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Worse Ways.

After a lonely week in bed Robotripping and blowing my nose, it gets pretty easy to feel sorry for myself. However, after watching a man get punched in the face repeatedly, in the name of science, on the History Channel, I realize that there are worse ways to live my life.

~sarah p.